


The Path to Friendship

by HollyeLeigh, ProtoChan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Sick Character, Sickfic, Trust, Trust Issues, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 11:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16218089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoChan/pseuds/ProtoChan
Summary: Smee and Killian weren’t always the infamous pair that scourged Neverland’s seas side-by-side, but how they went from captain and cabin boy to something close to  friends is a pirate story for the ages!





	The Path to Friendship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fraddit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fraddit/gifts), [SherlockianWhovian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianWhovian/gifts).



> Here goes another feel good fic, this time for two people! I know that’s a bit strange, but I designed it with the two of you in mind at different points in the writing of the piece and thus feel that I can give it to both of you.
> 
> BUT before I get into that, I want to thank Hollyeleigh for her AMAZING artwork for this piece! 
> 
> First, I want to dedicate this to my eternal writing buddy and fandom soulmate, @fraddit. You honestly get me like no one else in this fandom does and you’ve helped me through so much panic, frustration, and heartache over the past couple of months and I’m not sure I can ever repay that. But here’s an attempt. You were the initial spark for this story, though the timing came at one of my lowest moments, making its actual development a challenge that I wasn’t poised to overcome at the time. Also, you gave me a lot of help with drinking glasses. A LOT of help. Maybe too much help. But I still love you.
> 
> Second, the amazing @sherlockianwhovian! Dude, you’re an honest-to-Merlin superhero in this fandom! You helped organize a charity that raised over $1800, regularly write an insane amount of fics, and are one of the kindest presences here. I feel terrible for all of the hardship you’ve had to endure as of late from seemingly all sides (It’s a boat I sympathize with being in, though I can only imagine the extent of it you’ve been dealing with). You reignited my desire to bring this project to life under some most unfortunate circumstances, but hopefully, this can bring you joy because this is all that I feel like I can do
> 
> Anyway, I hope you two ladies and anyone else who reads enjoys this piece. Smee’s a character who I feel uniquely close to, and I love featuring him in works as to give him the nuances he deserves. Maybe I gave you an understanding if that here, but I guess you’ll have to read and find out.

  
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()  
  


A cabin boy’s life can hardly be called glamorous.  
  


Smee knows that better than most.  
  


Just as nature dictates that birds fly and fish swim, it also dictates that pirates drink and subsequently make a mess. Sometimes it’s spilled rum and sometimes, it’s the product of sickness that hits the wooden planks, but the one thing that remains the same is that cabin boys enjoy the esteemed “pleasure” of mopping it up – such is the case tonight.  
  


“Cheers!” Lewis – the first mate, Smee remembers (He’s had to learn plenty a name over the past few weeks) – joyously cries out to the assembled crewmen. It’s met by a response that’s just as jovial and is accompanied by clattering glasses.  
  


The crew’s caught a fantastic feast of fish for dinner and the ensuing celebration calls for a festive drink to accompany the first bit of good news they’ve had in a while.  
  


Only after spending an hour getting flounder and rum into the hands of everyone does Smee finally get his share and when he does, he goes to an unoccupied corner of the ship, sits, and eats alone.  
  


It’s been forty six days since he joined the crew of The Jolly Roger and Smee has found himself in no better standing with the rest of the crew than he was on his first one. No one says it outright, but Smee can feel the lack of connection between himself and the lot of them. There’s a chemistry between so many of them, practically brotherly bonds between cook, fisherman, and those who man the sails, forged over time, but with Smee, while they’re not even cruel with him, that’s never been the case. When he’s at work, he’s treated as a cabin boy and any conversation that comes his way is little more than idle prattle that could just as easily be directed at anyone else aboard the ship.  
  


And while things have been slightly better with his captain, Smee almost wishes it wasn’t.  
  


Captain Hook is a time bomb if there ever was one.  
  


In one minute, Hook has the passion and unchecked rage of an erupting volcano. It’s terrifying when he gets like that and makes Smee truly fear for his safety, much to his chagrin. Smee didn’t know Hook all that well prior to Milah’s murder, but even he can tell how wild Hook’s bloodlust for Rumplestiltskin has made him. To an extent though, Smee gets it. Hook is a captain, that passion tends to be just what is needed to keep a crew in line in the face of Neverland’s many horrors. Just as Smee quivers before Hook’s harsh commands, he’s more aware of his surroundings and actions than he ever thought possible.  
  


It’s when he accomplishes the most too.  
  


But there’s a second side to him. In moments where Hook lets himself and his mind wander, he’s distant, so distant, and Smee knows why. It’s not uncommon for Hook to stare at the drawing he finds more sacred than any of his crew members or perhaps even The Jolly Roger itself. A picture may tell a thousand words, but to anyone with even a passing knowledge of their captain, there’s but one word that this drawing now exclaims: agony.  
  


There’s agony for a life not fully lived. There’s agony for a vengeance denied by the laws of magic, space, and time. There’s agony for an equally agonizing death, both for Milah the victim and Hook the witness.  
  


There’s also another kind of agony – one on full display when he stares out towards the shores of Neverland. It’s not exactly for Milah, but it’s also not completely disassociated with her either.  
  


That specific look is reserved for Baelfire.  
  


No matter who the agony is meant for, it comes out silently all the same. However, it’s not at all quiet. There’s a certain loudness in the expression he gives when it takes over him.  
  


Who knew such a blankness had a voice that could leave him utterly gutted?  
  


All of that adds up to a difficult situation for Smee to deal with, one that he’s not sure he can or even wants to. It’s not like he hasn’t made an effort to be helpful and encouraging to Hook, but Hook hasn’t been the least bit receptive to any of it thus far as he’s bounced between states of anger and agony.  
  


Try as he does to deny it, there’s been a lingering fear inside of Smee that Hook might be too emotionally unstable to rely on. That instability awakens a new set of fears that Smee never knew he had. For all he knows, Hook could one day decide to turn on him and Smee doesn’t want to be on the other side of his hook if that moment ever comes. Unlike with the rest of the crew, there’s no real loyalty between the two of them.  
  


In truth – though only a truth to himself and God – Smee has thought about deserting a time or two, but with only the single island of Neverland to find sanctuary in, it would be futile. He’s resolved to bide his time until he could think of a plan for the time being, but still keep a satchel at the ready should he decide to part ways with The Jolly Roger forevermore.  
  


A clank of glass against wood returns Smee to the present and away from his meal.  
  


“Cabin boy!” a crew member (Chris, if Smee recalls correctly) shouts. “Get me another pint!”  
  


Smee bitterly sighs and gets to his task.  
  


As he cleans the dirty glass, Smee notices something – or rather, someone – or rather, a lack of someone.  
  


Where is Hook?  
  


Smee plays back his memories. He remembers seeing Hook for a split second while he was lugging rum bottles up to the deck earlier, but beyond that, Smee has no idea where he’s been this whole time. Though he knows he shouldn’t meddle – and he honestly doesn’t want to – he can’t dismiss the notion that something is amiss with Captain Hook.  
  


Normally, he’d turn to Lewis at a time like this, but Lewis has been here all evening and is presently thoroughly inebriated. If he has any idea of where Hook is, it’s most likely forgotten in favor of sea shanties and stories of the day’s catch.  
  


If Smee wants to find out the whereabouts of his captain, he’s on his own, and in spite of his instincts telling him to quell his curiosity, he really does want to know.  
  


He makes quick work of refilling Chris’ drink and after taking care of the three requests that follow, slips away to the cabins below deck. Aside from his own creaking footsteps, nothing but the muffled sounds of the crew celebrating above deck is prevalent. But a few steps later, Smee is able to make out groans from the captain’s quarters. They get louder as he approaches and by the time he reaches the door and lets out a few knocks, they’re quite prevalent.  
  


“Captain?” Smee calls from his side of the door.  
  


Continued groans are all that he receives for his efforts.  
  


For a second, he ponders on what to do. The last time he invaded his captain’s privacy, as unintentional as it was, Hook glared at him for the rest of the day and had him swab the entire deck. If he’s groaning, who knows what could be the source of it. It could be danger, grief, or anything in between or beyond.  
  


Is Smee prepared to take the risk and risk his captain’s ire once more?  
  


His answer to that surprises even himself.  
  


Looks like Hook’s instilled him with some courage.  
  


Smee’s nervous, but he takes a deep breath.  
  


“I’m coming in,” he announces loudly enough that anyone with a bit of sense to them would be able to hear.  
  


And then he opens the door and enters.  
  


Hook gracelessly spread atop his bed with his belly to the ceiling.  
  


“Captain, are you okay?”  
  


Smee approaches him. There’s a face of agony as clear as as Neverland’s skies on his face. It’s so familiar.  
  


“Pan…Milah…Crocodile…Baelfire…,” he murmurs, just barely comprehensively.  
  


Suddenly, the evening prior to this moment begins to unfold before Smee.  
  


For as much passion and energy as Hook has, there’s only so much he can take and already so much that he’s gone through. And a pang of guilt hits Smee for ever misunderstanding that for dangerous erraticism.  
  


In the forty six days Smee’s been here alone, Hook’s lost his beloved Milah, severed his connection to her son, transferred realms, repurposed his entire life, lost his hand, and become an errand boy to a child.  
  


After all that, who can blame him for a lapse in sanity?  
  


No, Smee decides as his nose takes in the aroma of rum in the air. It’s not a lapse in sanity, but a lapse in sobriety.  
  


Hook groans into the air and clutches his stomach.  
  


“Captain?” Smee asks, once more to no answer.  
  


It takes a moment for him to put two and two together, but once he does a pan around of the room and sees the flask tipped on the edge of the table, he does.  
  


His captain is sick.  
  


Smee springs into action. While he mutters his thoughts aloud, he presses a pillow to the wall beside the bed. He uses it as leverage and using a fair amount of his acquired muscles, he pushes Hook against it. There’s a hole atop the bedframe and it’s the perfect size to fit in a hook. Smee doesn’t question it, but what he does is use it to secure his captain’s position.  
  


The physics work out and Hook is now safely on his side.  
  


And when the lurching begins, Smee grabs a bucket.  
  


He just barely misses the start of the vomit, but that’s all he misses. As Hook empties his stomach into the bucket, Smee cradles the back of his head like a father holding his son.  
  


“Nice and easy, captain,” he whispers. “Nice and easy.”  
  


They stay like this for an hour until Smee’s certain that Hook’s done. Smee then carefully lowers the bucket onto the floor.  
  


Then he starts cleaning.  
  


A wet rag and some soap are scrubbed along the sheet of Hook’s mattress in order to rid it of the bits of vomit that the bucket could not catch and Smee clears out the bottle of rum upon the table. Afterwards, he sets out to wash both the table as well as Hook’s flask. By the time he’s finished, he can hardly smell the rum at all and there’s no sign of illness where Hook sleeps.  
  


Smee prepares a plan to discreetly dispose of the remnants of Hook’s crazy night as to not bring attention to the escapade and embarrass his captain or cast blame upon himself for the disclosure. He waits for another hour, aware of the fact that by that time of night, he’s as invisible to his crewmates as the dark side of the moon.  
  


In the time before then, he gets Hook a glass of water for the next morning and pondering his captain’s situation.  
  


What must it be like to be him? What must it be like to not only chase after a goal, but to also face such unimaginable fears in the process, and all the while ensure the safety of a crew?  
  


Smee contemplates that.  
  


The questions proceed to burn at him. He’s never had a chance to understand it. He was an orphan at the age of three and deprived of all family at nine.  
  


Until now, Smee hasn’t considered it much of a problem. After he came to terms with the deaths of all those he had loved, he dedicated himself to defeating the notion of his mortality, no matter the cost.  
  


But in the process, he gave up any chance of loyalty, connections, or honor.  
  


In the process, he lost that bit of humanity that opened itself to compassion.  
  


And now that he’s here and his goal of immortality is all but achieved, what can he dedicate himself to going forward? What will drive him out of bed every day?  
  


A groan has him look ahead and suddenly, the answer becomes so obvious.  
  


Now that he has a fresh start in Neverland, he’ll get all of those things.  
  


From now on, he’ll dedicate himself to Captain Hook.  
  


The epiphany comes to Smee rather quickly.  
  


A cabin boy’s life is indeed far from glamorous, and he does have a far way to go to catch up, but he can put more effort in.  
  


He can put more effort into getting to know his crew members.  
  


He can put more effort into getting to know his captain.  
  


Hook’s moods are something Smee’s realized he seems to be the only one to pick up on, and consequently, the only one to ever do anything to help with. For as much time as Hook’s spent with his other crew members, it was him that came to his quarters to check on him when no one else did. Smee’s lack of success made him not want to try anymore, but as he looks upon the sorrows Hook sank to on his own, he starts to realize that he’s in a unique position that makes him have to try – that makes him want to try.  
  


Because Hook needs him.  
  


And he may just need Hook too.  
  


An idea hits Smee to show his captain of his new found resolve. He takes a piece of loose paper from his captain’s desk and scribbles a rather simple note of encouragement on it.  
  


You’ll defeat him, Captain. If anyone can do it, it’s you.  
  


It’s nothing that will be read as too sappy for Hook’s taste – at least as far as Smee can ascertain – but he’s sure will show loyalty and understanding all the same.  
  


At last, the hour strikes and Smee heads off with his bucket and bottle in tow, extinguishing the sole candle in the room as he takes off.  
  


()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()  
  


Smee smiles when he sees Hook emerge on deck the next morning. He looks not the least bit haggard from his likely monstrous hangover, though his steps are noticeably slower than usual.  
  


However, no one seems to suspect anything, so Smee elects to say nothing as he continues with his chores.

  
The stench before him and muck at his feet is so close to overwhelming. Unfortunately, while catering to Hook’s condition, Smee neglected to his duties on deck, leaving him with quite the mess to clean up today.  
  


While exhausted, he shrugs it off.  
  


No one ever said a cabin boy’s life was glamorous, but it’s who he is and he’s going to make the most out of it.  
  


A minute later, a loud cough in his ear pulls him from his focus.  
  


When he turns, Hook’s there.  
  


“Mr. Smee,” he says. “How’d you like to learn how to hoist the sails today?”  
  


Smee – to say the least – is completely caught off guard.  
  


“I-I-I’d love to, Captain,” he manages to sputter out. “But what about the deck?”  
  


Hook waves his namesake nonchalantly through the space between them. “I’ll get Chris to do it,” he dismisses, smirking. “You’ve been here long enough and proved yourself capable of wearing more caps upon this vessel than just a cabin boy’s, wouldn’t you agree?” His smirk softens into a smile just long enough for Smee to burn the expression into his mind. Smee offers up one of his own.  
  


“Y-yes, sir.”  
  


There’s a clap upon Smee’s shoulder. “Then let’s get started!”  
  


And there’s only one thing Smee finds himself capable of saying.  
  


“Aye aye, captain!”  
  


Though neither of them know it at the time, together, they’ve taken the first step onto the path to a friendship that would last a lifetime.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! If you want to leave a review, that would be pretty swell! But if not, thanks for reading anyways! <3


End file.
